


Let This Remain

by badjujuboo (miztrezboo)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Accidents, Angst, Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fire, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-30
Updated: 2013-09-30
Packaged: 2017-12-28 01:30:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/986044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miztrezboo/pseuds/badjujuboo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four times they hear the sirens and the one time they don't need to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let This Remain

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mrsyt31](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrsyt31/gifts), [robpatFF](https://archiveofourown.org/users/robpatFF/gifts), [hez_writes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hez_writes/gifts).



> I blame this entirely on **ithacas** writing Lirry which i've been dying to write something for this pairing again but haven't had any inspiration and then Pearl Jam's Sirens came along and well. This. (for Morgan and Hez and Erin because most things are). Unbeta'd so soz for all mistakes. They are my tired brain's own.

. 1 .

They meet at a car accident. 

Neither of them are hurt - no. Just the sirens blaring loud in the street, these two bystanders watching with dark inquisitive eyes to the tragedy unfolding before them.

"Did you see it?" Harry asks, eyes still focused on the twist of metal on metal in front of them. Harry with his big curls and his big black jacket and his big blue scarf that seems to engulf his neck and shoulders. Harry, this boy whose name Liam learns later, later when the ambulance's have left, the fire fighters have cleaned the streets, the police have sent everyone on their way. Harry, who he shares a muffin and tea with when a chance meeting as strangers turns into something else. Something so much more.

"A little," Liam answers, hands rubbing up and down over his arms where his thin long sleeve shirt doesn't do much to keep the cold out. He glances at the boy to his right, wishes that he'd thought to grab his coat before coming out of the caf. "I was watching the road from my seat inside, it just. It just happened."

Harry nods and sways a little closer to Liam as someone pushes through the crowd into the street with a wail that chills Liam to the bone. This woman with long red hair flowing behind her keeps calling this name over and over and Liam feels his chest tighten with emotion. He wants to look away, give this woman the privacy that she deserves, let her grieve in the harsh way she needs to but he can't. 

Harry watches, too. Watches as she falls to the ground near the body covered with a sheet, a bare hand loose at the side. 

"Was her fiance that," the elderly lady who runs the little flower stand on the corner says from Liam's left. "s'posed to get married in the morning they were," she says, shaking her head and making the sign of the cross over her chest. "Going to be a bit nicer to my Derek tonight, hug my grandaughter a little closer." 

Liam nods, thinking about how he'll call his mum after this. They haven't talked in a week which isn't long but after this, it's an eternity. He'll call his mum and he'll make time to go and visit his father's grave in the morning. He'll make an effort. He will.

He looks to his side and Harry's already on his phone, fingers flying over the screen and Liam can see in the bright lights of blue and red that spin in a cycle in front of them how glassy Harry's eyes look. Teeth pressed into his bottom lip making the rosie skin pale, and whiten with the pressure.

"Texting my mum," Harry says to Liam, Liam who doesn't know how much his mum means to Harry yet. Who doesn't know how Harry's been in this situation before but not the one watching. No. The one choking on sobs that drag their way out of his body, much like the woman in front of them is suffering through now. He doesn't know yet, how tight Harry will hold onto him later, much later after they've bitten each other's lips raw, scraped nails down skin just to see red lines raise and prove that they're here. They're both _here_ in the now and the present.

"Blink of an eye," Harry says after they've been silent and thoughtful, lost in pasts that have their hearts aching and sore. That have them swallowing down emotions both of them thought they'd stopped having to deal with anymore. They step back as an ambulance speeds past, sirens blaring and lights flashing bright as snow starts to fall around them both. "You're here, then you're," Harry shrugs, hands opening into nothingness from where they were clasped in front of him before.

Liam nods, thinking of his Dad and how he was laughing at the telly one minute, clutching at his heart the next and staring at Liam with wide, wide eyes. Then after with the strip of skin too pale to be real just under his jaw, the make up artist missing a bit. Making death and finality so much more real.

"Tea?" Harry asks, nodding to the caf behind them, "You're looking a bit cold," he smiles and Liam sees those dimples for the first time. Before the days where he'd wonder if he'd imagined them, imagined a smile lighting Harry's face so much that Liam thought his cheeks would get sore. Before the sullen days that carried on and on and when Liam couldn't bare to see Harry smile at all.

"Yeah," he says with an answering grin, "I think a brew would be good right now,"

And he follows Harry in and they sit at the table that over the months ahead becomes theirs and they talk about things that mean nothing and everything. Conversations they'll have again and again and again. They flirt with hesitant brushes of foot against foot, of fingertips lingering as they both pick at the chocolate muffin between them. Subtle gestures that have them walking side by side down darkened streets, muted lamplight leading the way. Where a shake of hands turns into, "I only live two down from here," and "I'd love to hear that Johnny Cash record if you really don't mind," and then kissing hard and harsh against a dull green door. Where a record never gets pulled from it's sleeve and the only thing coming apart is what they do to each other. 

 

. 2 .

He's woken from a deep sleep with Harry's lips on his skin. Harry's arm wrapped around his middle. Harry's warm breath against his neck that feels cool because Liam's been swaddled up warm in their three blankets and two duvets because they couldn't make enough money this month to pay for the heat. 

Liam lays still and breathes slow and steady as he listens for Harry's words. Barely makes them out as sounds from the outside filter in, high pitched shrieks that whir and whine and Liam wonders who's without a father now? Who's child will wake up in the morning without a mother?

"I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you," Harry says, hand on the move over and over Liam's chest, like he can rub the words in. Make them press into Liam's skin by sheer will alone.

"I love you, I love you, I love you," he repeats some more, near choking on the words and Liam grabs at his hand, holds it still over his heart. Pretends not to hear how Harry says the words again and again as his tears fall hot and heavy over Liam's back.

It's how Harry will wrap himself around Liam in the morning. Liam at the stove with bacon sizzling in the pan and Harry's lips on his shoulder, arm wrapped over Liam's torso, hand resting over his heart. It's hours after Liam waits for Harry to fall asleep, to tire himself out. After the cool grey light of morning has Liam sliding out of bed and into his trainers and out the front door, running till he can't feel Harry's words repeated with every beat of his own heart. Until he can't breathe, until he can't say the words back because he can't _speak_ at all. That's when he comes home. Home to the house that was his but eventually became theirs because Harry was sick of sofa surfing and Liam's hours at the factory had been cut and he couldn't, wouldn't move home. 

Home to Harry, the boy who stole his heart.

Harry speaks all sleepy soft into Liam's neck. "Lux stopped breathing last night. Just choked on some chicken that Tom was feeding her. I couldn't. I couldn't stay to see if she was alright. I just. I had to come home," _home to you_ Liam thinks. 

Liam just puts his hand over Harry's, holds on. 

"She's okay though. I got Lou's text this morning." 

And the words, _but you weren't here to tell_ aren't said, but Liam feels them like a punch to the gut.

 

. 3 .

 

They're laughing. They're laughing because they can't _do_ anything else.

It was an accident. One of those things that you can't predict but maybe they could have prevented.

"I'll need you to concentrate and suck on the green stick, thanks, Harry," the paramedic says with a grin - Liam thinks he said his name was Sandy or Dan. Maybe it was the other way around, the driver is Sandy and the bloke in the back with them is Dan. 

Harry grins and salutes Sandy/Dan with one hand and winces as the truck hits a hole in the road, chuckles when the paramedic calls out a curse and for Sandy to "bloody drive right will you?" 

So it's Dan then. Dan the man with the plan to get Harry and Liam out of the middle of the Scottish Highlands and to some sort of civilisation. It was a dumb idea coming up here to go camping. It was summer but the nights were still bitterly cold in the little cottage they'd stayed at. Wrapped up in one another yet feeling so very, very far apart. 

"I love you, Liam. I love you even though you pushed me over and broke my foot," Harry says with a chuckle and Liam's face heats up. He notices the look Sandy and Dan share in the rearview mirror and he's choking on the words to set them right.

"No, no it's not like that. I didn't. Harry I didn't push you over!" Liam says with a stutter and Harry sucks down another lungful of whatever magic pain killing _stuff_ is in the green stick and laughs harder.

"Yes you did! I was telling you to leave if you couldn't try and fix us and you pushed me out the door and I fell,"

Liam's shaking his head because, "Harry you fell out the door and I tried to pull you back from the stair because you fall over thin air let alone the shoes you never move from the front step,"

Harry just smiles and sucks on the stick and Liam can see in his eyes he's not really with it but is enough to still blame Liam for this. 

"You fell. You fell because you were blowing things out of proportion. Of course I didn't want to come. I wanted to stay home but you kept harping on about it so-"

Harry starts to say something around the stick in his mouth but chokes because they go over a series of pot holes.

"Maybe you two should sort this out when we get to the hospital, alright?" Dan says and Liam can see him surreptitiously shifting Harry's clothes like he's looking for old bruises or tell tale signs of bones set wrong. 

"That tickles," Harry says, squiriming out of Dan's touch only to curse as he shifts his foot the wrong way. "You've been sad for weeks. For so long, Liam. I just wanted to see you smile, just once."

Liam says nothing to that. Can't say anything because this week is always the hardest week. Has always been the hardest week since Liam turned sixteen and all the years that have come since. He'll think about how much Harry tried to help him with this trip later. He'll spend the night beside Harry's bed while Harry sleeps off the hours in surgery fixing the break in his ankle and the other in his tibia or fibia. Liam never really got which one. He'll sit there and he'll think the words Harry is always able to say so easily. He'll think the words so hard that he'll hope it'll be enough.

"I thought taking you away might make this better. I love you so much, Liam. I love you so-" and Harry stops, eyes fluttering shut. 

It's quiet the rest of the trip back, Harry only coming to for a moment when they put the sirens back on to get through town fast. Harry's had a reaction to whatever chemical it is he's been sucking down and his heart is beating too fast. Liam can't even say it then. Can't get the words out even when faced with the moments with Harry that could be his last.

Even when Harry wakes the next day, all groggy and bleary eyed and says, "I'm so glad you're here, love. Love you so very much."

 

. 4 . 

Andy's always been a dick. Always been the one to show off. Always had to one up whoever had some sort of talent that came natural or from hard work.

Andy probably didn't think by doing nothing but flip a bloody steak over he'd burn his whole arm. And part of his face. And a good chunk of his chest.

Andy didn't really think much at all.

It's Harry that shuts down this time. Harry who can't speak just stands there when Liam's yelling at him to call 999. It's Harry who stays frozen - not even blinking - just stands there while Liam's getting a fire extinquisher and throwing a bloody blanket over his mate, hoping it'll be enough.

Harry falls to the floor, curls into a ball and _rocks_ and no matter how many times Liam yells at him to get up. To stop it because he can't _deal_ with this right now. Harry doesn't stop.

Harry doesn't stop once the paramedics have come and taken Andy and Maz. Harry's still at least. The rocking horse impression having slowed to nothing but Harry's breath loud in their now quiet flat. The screech of tires and wind up and down of sound from the street below disappearing into the night and just Harry and Liam alone with demons that Harry's never spoken about.

He tells Liam, when the house is dark and the midnight hour has struck, about his sister, pointing to the iced gem on his upper arm. When Liam's lying there in front of him, close enough to touch but not. Not getting too close because Liam's never been able to do that. Not on his own. Not without Harry's help. 

The lights from the candles they'd lit to give the place 'ambience' while Harry did the talking and Liam tried to blend in have slowly gone out. It's dark, not a star in the sky and no moon either, as Harry tells of a night like most others. Of two kids who thought they'd sneak downstairs to make their mother breakfast, two children who had no idea of the faulty kettle that their mother hand unplugged the night before to throw out. 

Harry'd not been able to use an electric kettle for years after. Eyes blinded by a spark that set old flanelette pyjama's alight. Yellow and orange fighting to take more and more and screams. Screams that have Harry holding his ears and Liam trying to pull them off and just pulling Harry in. Pulling Harry close as Harry sobbed and begged Liam not to let him go.

"Don't let me go. Don't. . . Don't go. I love. . . don't go."

Liam's lips form the words Harry's never asked to hear, always said enough for them both as he holds Harry against him. He kisses them into Harry's hairline. On the tip of his nose. His eyelids that have finally closed. He squeezes them into every part of Harry he can touch, smooths them over his back as his hands run up and down, lulling Harry further into sleep. 

They don't talk of Gemma again. But they do visit Harry's mum, not in that house but in the park down the road where two children always had so much fun.

 

. 5 .

Liam leaves. 

He leaves because Harry keeps looking at him like he's waiting for something more. Liam leaves because it hurts that he can't give Harry what he wants. Liam leaves because they live three doors down from a bloody fire house and there's a junky on the bottom floor that's always taking way too much. Liam leaves because Harry's best mate, Louis, is studying to be a nurse and he comes over when he loses his first patient to a broken heart. Eyes wide, hand shaking as he lights one smoke and then another - never finishing them - just needing something to hold as he falls apart. Liam leaves because he wants to say it, but he can't.

Liam's gone for a year. Gone from Harry's green, green eyes and Harry's obnoxious laugh and Harry's early morning kisses with bacon grease covered lips. Gone from the way Harry always curls into his side, pulls him in and holds him close like it'll be enough. That it'll force the words from Liam's lungs. 

Liam returns because everywhere he goes the sirens chase him down. It's a little girl falling out of a tree at the park where he takes his lunch. It's the cops on the corner at his local, pulling two grown men who should know better apart. It's the city and it's endless noise. This circus of lights and sounds and cries that echo in pattern around and around until it's _all_ Liam knows.

He comes back because he feels Harry's absence like a phantom limb. He feels himself whispering the words Harry longed for when he's falling into bed, exhausted at night. He catches himself saying it to Niall, the lad he's struck up a sort of friendship with when they work behind the bar. It falls from his lips when he's in the back of some club, in the dark alley outside behind some stinking bin as he blows his load down the throat of a bloke he didn't even catch the name of. This choked out, "Fuck, Harry, I love you!" as he comes and feels nothing but guilt about it.

He goes home because he knows where he is, isn't where he belongs.

He doesn't call. He hasn't. Hasn't picked up a phone or sent a text or even a note in the post. He should expect Harry to throw him out - not welcome him with open arms.

It's a good brew and a banana muffin because it's saturday and Harry always bakes on a saturday when he doesn't have to work at the little bookstore around the corner, or the cafe where they met almost three years before. It's silence that is only etched out in the slow _tick, tick_ of the slow moving hand on the clock. It's Harry asking him if he found what he needed and Liam nodding because even now, words still stick like the sticky carmel of the slice Harry also offered up. 

Liam puts his tea down and just falls to his knees, places his head and hands in Harry's lap and says the one word Harry's heard a million times before.

It's "sorry, I'm so sorry," as Harry's fingertips stroke over his scalp, Liam having shaved the lot off when he'd left town. It's "I missed you," and "I won't, I won't leave anymore," and the rest is just _waiting_ there. The three words that Harry has always given so freely, always said because who knows when it will be the last time a chance is offered to do so. 

They fall into bed with ease because it's something they've always done. From that first night when they connected as two souls with hurts just begining to heal under skin so thin the slightest touch could tear it up. They kiss and touch and Liam relishes every cut of Harry's nails down his back. Every bite to his chest that labels who he is to Harry. The marks that Harry's always left as visible messages of his love. Liam let's Harry press in and in without the care that he's always shown, scissor his fingers apart too soon and Liam winces but Harry kisses the creases of his concern, but doesn't slow down. He let's Harry push his legs up and up and then rock into Liam's body with one long, hard, slide. He holds on as Harry fucks him up the bed, Liam's head banging into the headboard until all he can hear is Harry's grunts and a squeak and thunk that surely the neighbours can tell means Liam's home.

When they're done. When Harry's pulled out and come all over Liam's chest as he jerks them both off. When Harry's cleaned them up with the shirt he pulled off when they'd collapsed onto the bed and into each other. When Harry's lying beside him, smiling and tugging Liam close, all arms and legs and _Harry_. Liam still can't say a word.

The last thing he see's before he passes out is the crease in Harry's brow. 

He sleeps like he's not slept at all since he's been gone.

Which is mostly true. 

He'd tossed and turned to all the moments that existed between them. The words thrown in anger and in happiness and in love. The words that Liam couldn't say, freezing him up in his dreams, filling out his mouth with skin and flesh until he didn't have one to open at all. 

He sleeps and doesn't dream in the home he's found, always had, in Harry's arms.

And it's quiet. It's so, _so_ quiet in this house with only Harry's breathing slow and steady beside him and no other sounds. No catterwauls of city trucks ferrying people from one emergency to another. Just silence. 

Just love.

Just the words that Harry needs to hear and Liam needs to say. He needs to get out there because he nearly lost it all. 

"Blink of an eye," Harry had said that first time. Felt in so many others with a look shared. With a sound in the distance proving to them time and time again how things could change. But fear had made it's home in Liam's heart so long before Harry had got there. But Liam couldn't live like that anymore.

Harry snorts and shifts and his nose scrunches up in ways that Liam knows means he's waking up.

"I always loved you, always," he whispers once he can see Harry's eyes. Harry just stares at him, luminous green blinking slow in the morning light and he smiles, lips hidden by the duvet but Liam can see it in the crinkles of his brow, the way his cheeks lift.

"Always. Always." Liam repeats, leaning in close, nuzzling Harry's cheek. Feels the warmth of Harry's skin against his own like an anchor holding him, keeping him still. "Always," he says again, because it feels like if he doesn't say it now. Doesn't say it over and over everything they've been through won't be real.

Harry will be gone.

"Love you, Li. Always."

Liam breathes the words in as Harry's lips find his own. Liam says them back again and again as their kissing becomes touching and then Harry rides him and Liam can't say it enough.

They don't even notice as the street below fills with the harsh blues and reds and whites.

They've got love and love is enough.


End file.
